The Dragon Orb (The Alaris Chronicles Book 1)

by Mike Shelton

  “Erryl!” his father yelled. It was the last thing Erryl heard.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Where is Roland?” Onius asked Bakari as they stood together outside the castle stables in Cassian.

  Bakari glanced up from the small book he was studying with a blank look on his face.

  Onius flung his hands into the hair. “Put away the book, and pay attention, Bak. We’re almost ready to leave, but Roland is nowhere to be found.”

  Blushing, Bakari put the book in a side pocket of his pack. “I’ll go find him, Counselor. Probably down in town.”

  “No doubt saying good-bye to the girls.” Onius shook his head and barked a laugh. “Take my advice, Bak, and please don’t follow in Roland’s ways.”

  Bakari’s cheeks turned an even darker shade, and he gave Onius a nervous smile. “I’ve got my books to keep me company.”

  Onius patted him on the back. “Good man. Though it would do you good to get out a little more. You don’t want to be a hermit for all your life.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Bakari said. He couldn’t tell if the counselor was serious or not.

  Bakari ran through the south gate of the castle compound and scampered to the shipping district. This was not a place he frequented, as he didn’t enjoy the pastime of visiting much, but this was where Roland usually found the girls.

  The late-summer day was hot, and Bakari slowed down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Shops lined the cobblestone street, their colorful awnings and flags hanging out in front to advertise their wares.

  The district consisted primarily of two-story brick and cement buildings, with a few older wooden clapboards down at the end. Each building housed a shop on the lower level and living quarters on the top. Dirt-packed side streets led off to smaller shops and more homes.

  Bakari wandered around the streets for a few minutes, until he saw a group of girls standing next to a bakery. The laugh of one girl floated through the air, followed by a deeper voice. Roland! It had to be.

  Coming closer, Bakari saw that it was indeed his friend, telling an entertaining story to four girls. The girls laughed and screamed in delight. Their frilly, colorful dresses, with lace detailing, marked them as highborn.

  Bakari caught Roland’s attention, so Roland called his friend over to meet the girls. Bakari felt awkward in his riding attire.

  “Um…nice to meet you,” Bakari said to the group, stumbling through his words.

  They were polite but seemed unimpressed and soon turned their attention back to Roland.

  “I’m sorry, girls, but I must go off with the Chief Judge to meet the High Wizard.”

  “Oh, Roland,” said a tall, brown-haired beauty while touching Roland’s arm with her gloved fingers. “What a great honor that must be for you.”

  Roland smiled and clasped her hand in his. “Not as much of an honor as spending some time with you ladies.”

  Bakari rolled his eyes. “Roland,” he called to his friend sarcastically. “The esteemed company is waiting for you to return to the castle so they can leave.”

  “Right you are, Bak, my friend.” Roland turned back to the girls one last time. “Wizard Bakari, here, reminds me I am needed back at the castle. Farewell, ladies! I will see you in a few weeks, when I return.”

  Roland gave a flourishing bow, and then the two young men hurried back toward the castle grounds.

  As they walked up the road that led to the castle, Roland turned to Bak and slapped him on the back. “Have you seen that fetching young wizard yet, Bak?”

  “Roland!” Bak sighed and pushed his friend’s hand away. “Is there nothing else you think about these days?” Roland fell silent while the two of them entered the castle gates and headed toward Onius and the rest of the group.

  “Well, I do think about how powerful of a wizard I am going to be.”

  “And a humble one at that,” Bakari said. “At least being with you should make this trip more exciting.”

  “You got that right,” Roland said, winking at Bakari.

  The two found their horses, mounted, and, with a stern eye from Onius, headed out with the group.

  Hours later, Bakari sat on his gray quarter horse with his head once again in a book, oblivious to the scenery around them. He reviewed his own compilation of facts about the barrier and the magic that sustained it. It seemed to be showing signs of weakness recently.

  Something didn’t seem right to him, so he poured back over his notes. Where did the barrier get its power? Why was it weakening? Those two questions kept him up late each night, reading by the side of the fire.

  Three days into their journey north to the Citadel, Bakari’s horse stepped into a small dip in the dirt road and the book in his hand went flying through the air, landing on some tufts of grass along the side of the road.

  The farmlands and grasslands were primarily open in this part of Alaris. But, up ahead, the road curved around a large copse of trees. As Bakari watched, the rest of the group disappeared in front of him. He hadn’t realized he had fallen so far behind.

  He stopped the horse and hopped off. Then he picked up the book and wiped the dust from the cover. Sighing to himself, he pushed his fists into the small of his back to try and rid it of the tightness riding had caused. He did need to get out of the library more…and exercise. He was weak and out of shape.

  His horse stood patiently, with its head down, chewing a few mouthfuls of grass growing next to the hard-packed road, which would lead to River Bend and then northwest to the Citadel.

  “Adi,” Bakari said, then called the horse over to him with a cluck of his tongue. He liked the temperaments of the female horses better than those of the males. Before he could climb back onto his horse, he heard a sound up ahead, between himself and the rest of the group.

  A dozen men on horses emerged from the trees a few hundred feet in front of him, riding cross-country. They turned away from his direction and charged in a fast gallop up the road, toward the rest of the Chief Judge’s party. If they had noticed Bakari standing there behind them, they didn’t seem to show any interest in a lone traveler standing next to his horse on the side of the road.

  Bakari felt his chest tighten. He didn’t possess the magical ability to communicate with other wizards through his mind as Roland had done. Bakari thought about yelling a warning, but his voice wouldn’t travel that far, and this would only call undue attention to himself. So, instead, he decided to travel at a slower pace behind the men and keep his eyes open.

  Putting away his book, he traveled behind the men and noticed that their horses were thoroughbreds, the types found mostly up in the northern regions of Alaris. They were popular in the Citadel, and Bakari remembered riding one once, only to discover that they were too big for his comfort. His rump didn’t have enough padding.

  He proceeded now to push his smaller horse faster so as to keep them in his sight.

  Before the riders caught up to the Chief Judge and his traveling group, they turned around another bend in the road. Soon both groups ahead of Bakari were out of sight, hidden behind a small forested area. The Dunn River roared not too far away behind the trees. Bakari rode harder so he wouldn’t miss anything.

  Loud voices and the sound of clashing swords filled the air before Bakari grew too close. He slowed down and inched up behind a group of great oaks. The riders had indeed surprised the Chief Judge’s group and were now fighting them. Other riders from the north also joined in, boxing in the group from Cassian.

  A loud swooshing sound filled the air, and bodies went flying. Bolts of light flew through the air at the attackers. Bakari smiled. Two powerful wizards, in Onius and Gorn, along with the apprentices, Alli and Roland, would be more than a match for these apparent rebels.

  Bakari stayed hidden, knowing his skills were not in the area of fighting. Men ran and screamed, trying to push into the center of the group. Adi snorted and stomped her feet, so Bakari leaned over and quieted her down with a small pat to the top of her head.<
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  The battle seemed to be going well for his friends, when, over the din, Daymian Khouri’s voice cut through the air.

  “Stop the fighting!” the Chief Judge repeated twice.

  The fighting slowed, and Bakari watched as two burly men walked out of the circle of fighters with the Chief Judge held between them.

  Roland marched toward the two men, but Onius put his arm out and held him back with a shake of his head. Instead, the counselor wizard himself strode forward.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Onius’s face was still red from the recent fighting. “This is treason.”

  One of the men holding onto the Chief Judge stepped forward. “We have no fight with you, Wizard. In fact, we hope you will one day join our cause.”

  “And what cause is that?”

  “To be like other kingdoms, with a powerful king. The judges are too soft. There is no pride in Alaris. We must break through the magical barrier and become more than we are. We must once again show the world that Alaris is in charge.”

  It was the same old argument that had been used for a dozen years now

  Onius brought his hand up toward the rebels, but one of the men holding the Chief Judge brought out a small bottle of liquid and forced its contents down the Chief Judge’s throat. The Chief Judge coughed and spit, but soon his body fell limp, and his head lolled to the side.

  Bakari took a step forward, then changed his mind and moved back behind a tree. These must be the same people that had tried to kill the Chief Judge ten days earlier, in the castle. At least, they must be working for the same people. He couldn’t imagine this rebel group being the brains behind both attacks.

  “Your leader has been given a poison,” the captain of the mercenaries began again. He held his sword outside its scabbard next to his leather-clad body. “We have the antidote hidden nearby. If you attack us, he will die.”

  The Chief Judge’s eyes were still open and appeared to understand what was happening. But, without the use of his body, he could do nothing about it.

  The mercenary leader gave a toothy grin. Black hair and beard covered most of his face and head, and muscles bulged around his black leather armor.

  “Good, I see we have an understanding. In the morning, we will all take a little trip together. Be mindful that your Chief Judge’s life is in your hands. We will administer the antidote in small doses, and he will renounce his position and step down as Chief Judge.”

  Bakari heard a gasp from Roland and saw the Chief Judge’s eyes grow darker and his face muscles twitch. Bakari knew then that the Chief Judge would not obey their terms but would protect the system of government over his own life.

  Shouts from angry voices spread throughout the Chief Judge’s party. Then Onius stepped up.

  “What assurance do we have that the Chief Judge will actually live?”

  “You personally will stay by his side and observe him. You can monitor his health. But, I assure you, if you try anything, he will die!” the mercenary spat. “The antidote only works within the first forty-eight hours.”

  Bakari’s shoulders slumped. An extreme burden had just settled upon his young frame. He was the only one free, the only one with a chance to save the Chief Judge. He knew the rebels were not to be trusted to keep their promises. Bakari also knew Roland well enough to know that he would try something. Roland wouldn’t be able to sit still through this ordeal. He possessed too much power and pride.

  As the rebels took the prisoners farther back into the forest, the setting sun sparkled on something on the ground where the men had been. Bakari dismounted the horse, and with quiet steps and slow movements, crept forward to find out what it was. After being sure he had not been seen, he moved closer to the object.

  Lifting it up and turning it around in his fingers, he recognized it as the small bottle for the poison that had been administered to the Chief Judge. He brought it to his nose and took a small whiff. His head snapped back with the pungent smell and his nose wrinkled up.

  Bakari moved back into the trees and started to cipher through his mind for the type of poison the bottle had contained. His mind worked methodically, analyzing the smell and breaking down the ingredients, then comparing this information to the notes and books he had read over his short fifteen years.

  After a few minutes, a broad smile spread across his face. He removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, trying to think of the best way to save the Chief Judge. Luckily for them, the rebels were bluffing to some degree. The poison was debilitating for sure, and the Chief Judge wouldn’t be able to move his body much for about forty-eight hours, but it was not as deadly as they had let on.

  This fact meant that wherever they were going to take the group wasn’t too far away. However, even after the effects of the poison wore off, the Chief Judge would still be weak and sickly if he didn’t get some type of antidote and herbs to help strengthen him.

  Bakari needed to figure out something he could do. They all depended on him to find help.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Thinking about Roland’s experience of healing the Chief Judge a few weeks before, Bakari took his horse and headed back toward a small nearby village, an hour off the main road. He hoped to find the village healer or a medicine woman so he could buy some herbs to speed up the Chief Judge’s healing. He left his horse tethered by a patch of grass and a small spring, out of sight of the village gate. He took off his wizard’s cloak, folded it up, and placed it inside his pack.

  Walking into the village alone was unnerving. Bakari was rarely by himself, unless it was with his books in the library, so he glanced around in quick motions. The town was small, with one wide dirt road heading through the middle of it. A few shops and houses lined this street. Smaller paths, only wide enough for a person or a horse, led off to the sides, presumably to other homes. Normally, in the evening, he would have expected more movement around the town as people finished their shopping or headed to the ale houses or inns for an evening of entertainment and conversation.

  “Good Sir, could you tell me the way to a medicine man or woman’s home?” he asked the first adult he saw.

  The man glared at Bakari with a look of nervous suspicion and said nothing. Maybe they weren’t used to seeing someone of his dark heritage. There were not a lot of his people south of Whalen.

  “The city seems quiet for this time of day,” Bakari observed out loud.

  The man turned his head, as if looking for someone. “What is your business here in our town?”

  “I need some herbs for a friend of mine who is sick,” Bakari offered. “We were traveling and an insect bite has given him a fever.” He hoped this small lie would suffice. He wasn’t good at making things up like this.

  “You’re from the city?” the man asked, referring to Cassian, the only city of size in the area.

  Something felt wrong. So Bakari took in his surroundings again and noticed a band of men walking down the road from the other side of town. They wore the same black leather armor as the rebel mercenaries had. He then realized they had left backup in this little town.

  Lowering his voice, he took a chance by stating, “I serve the Chief Judge in Cassian. I need to get to the medicine woman.”

  “Strangers are not much appreciated here, son.” The man sighed and lowered his voice even lower. “Down the main road, two houses past the inn. But hurry, then leave town when your business is done.” The man glanced back at the men walking up behind him, still about a block away. “We don’t want any more trouble here.”

  Bakari understood: the rebels had taken over the village. Giving his thanks, he turned and headed off in the indicated direction. He sensed the eyes of the rebels on his back. But, when he glanced behind him, he noticed them entering a shop.

  He knocked on the door of the medicine woman’s house. A moment later, the door swung open, and he was greeted by a young, dark-skinned girl a year or so younger than himself. Bakari felt self-conscious seeing the girl all by himself. He
reached up and patted down his hair. For some reason, he wanted to appear presentable.

  “I am here to see the medicine woman,” he said, surprised to see someone else with dark skin south of Whalen. History said their ancestors came from a mountain region north of Alaris—in Mahli. Since the barrier had closed off any new travels for such a long time, much of that history was now lost.

  Peering back and forth down the street, the young woman nodded and moved aside for him to enter. She motioned him to a small sitting room. The sky had darkened on his way there, and the room was lit by a few candles and one oil lamp. Two worn but sturdy stuffed chairs sat in the center of the room with a small, low table between them.

  A few books and decorations lined a wall of shelves, with another wall devoted to bottles and canisters of herbs and medicines. The aroma of peppermint and lavender, mixed with dried herbs like catnip and echinacea, among others, tickled his nose. He shook his head to ignore his natural impulse to catalog each scent in his mind.

  The young woman sat down opposite him. She wore plain clothes, her straight black hair falling in a gentle cascade to the top of her shoulders. Her nose was thinner than his, and, though she was not a great beauty, her face held a kindness and a serenity that Bakari admired immediately.

  “I am Kharlia Attah, the village medicine woman.” Her brown eyes were intelligent and sparkled as if holding back a secret.

  Bakari’s body twitched with a sudden movement, which gave away his surprise at her being so young. He adjusted his glasses and said simply, “I am Bakari. Some call me Bak for short.”

  “Well, Bakari, what can I help you with today?”

  “I didn’t expect you to be so young,” he blurted out, then blushed. Kharlia laughed, and Bakari felt himself relax.

  “My mother died a few years ago, and I took over for her. I assure you, I do know my trade.”

  “Oh!” He smiled back in silence for a few moments, admiring her soft brown eyes and smooth skin.

  The young woman couldn’t have been more than fourteen, but Bakari was drawn to her. Remembering Onius’s warning from three days earlier, about not getting distracted like Roland did, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He did hope she knew her trade. Kharlia cleared her throat, and Bakari was brought back to the task at hand.